Tears
by SilverSmile
Summary: Sherlock cries alone in the dark, thinking no one will ever know. But John finds him and comforts him, offering more than Sherlock ever thought he'd get. SLASH, John/Sherlock pairing, slightly graphic.


Hi, so this was originally a prompt I saw on the Sherlock BBC Kink Meme.

This is my first attempt at any kind of Sherlock fanfiction, and it's the closest to smut I've ever written. So, I hope you enjoy :)

**Just a warning, this IS slash (male/male pairings), and it does get into some slightly detailed sex. **

Disclaimer: Character's aren't mine

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**Tears**

He moved in an almost mechanical manner as he entered his bedroom and softly closed the door behind him. Walking the few steps it took to reach his bed, he turned and sat on the edge of it. Leaning forward so his elbows rested in a falsely casual way upon his knees, he absentmindedly noted his hands, which were noticeably shaking.

Rather than sit there and rationalize away all his problems, he allowed his tightly wound control to unwind and shatter.

Immediately the shaking got worse, causing him to clasp his hands together so tightly that his knuckles turned white where his skin was pulled taught. The securely sealed box inside that he usually stashed all those useless emotions and feelings broke open. A great pain filed him, bocking the breath from his throat and making him feel nauseous.

He bowed his head and his breathing grew ragged, his mind swirling with the hurtful words tossed at him almost daily, the looks of dislike and scorn, the feeling of exclusion and failure.

Although Sherlock Holmes was a self-diagnosed sociopath and thus supposed to be unable to feel such basic feelings, he was only human – loath as he was to admit it. When he was assaulted with such stinging barbs each and every day of his life – it hurt. To make it all so much worse, he'd lost the game with Moriarty and now an elderly woman was dead. Then there was the whole fiasco with the bomb…

Sherlock couldn't contain a shuddering sob that escaped his throat. His grey-blue eyes burned with the tears that slowly slid down his face.

Angrily, he mentally reminded himself that John was only up-stairs; though Sherlock had specifically waited long enough for John to fall asleep before he'd given into this basic human function.

Logically he knew that words didn't physically hurt anyone and crying alone in the dark wouldn't make anyone feel better or make it stop.

Sometimes, however, in the deepest, darkest and most secret corer of his heart, he wished he could be normal. Then, maybe, he'd have what the rest of the human race seemed so eager to get and enjoy. If he were normal, then he'd have people who cared about him, who wanted to be his friend, who talked to him because they wanted to, not because they wanted him to do something for them…

The sobs were getting heavier now, but he tried to be still and quiet.

"Sherlock?"

He jumped slightly and his tear-stained face snapped up to see John standing in his doorway. It appeared he hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought he was being. He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't even noticed John's footsteps or him opening Sherlock's bedroom door.

"J-J-John." He couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice as another sob escaped from some hidden and hurt place in his chest.

"Oh, Sherlock." John's voice had suddenly turned from alarmed to sympathetic understanding.

Before Sherlock could do anything else, the ex-solider moved from the entrance of the room over to the bed and sat down heavily beside him. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Sherlock was pulled to the side and enfolded in John's strong arms, his face nestled in the crook of John's throat where he could feel the slight vibrations as John made comforting sounds.

"Wh-What're you d-d-doing?" Sherlock couldn't stop himself from asking even as his sobs persisted.

"Holding you." John said simply.

"I'm f-fine."

"No, you're not, you idiot. If you were this upset over everything – which is a completely normal reaction – you should of just told me. You're not alone anymore; you've got me." John said softly, his arms tightening slightly around Sherlock.

It wasn't very often that Sherlock Holmes was surprised; it was even rarer that the consulting detective found himself speechless. How was it that this man, so simple on the surface, could be such a mystery inside?

In his already emotional state, Sherlock found the last of his normally impenetrable barriers fall away as if they'd merely been made of sand and John had been a wave breaking upon them.

Slowly, almost shyly, Sherlock raised his arms up and gently grasped at the jumper John was wearing, holding onto it more firmly when John didn't immediately pull away.

"Don't leave, stay." Sherlock barely recognised the desperation and honesty in his raspy voice, only slightly muffled by the jumper pressed against the side of his face.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here for as long as you want me." John pushed back slightly so he could actually see the still teary eyes of Sherlock.

Cupping his cheek, John used his thumb to brush away some of the tears still leaking from the beautiful grey-blue eyes. John slowly leaned in close and softly pressed their lip together. He then pulled back and offered a half-smile.

"Let me take care of you, love you, be yours." He whispered in the semi-darkness of Sherlock's room: the light from the hallway seeping into the room and casting tall shadows upon the walls.

Sherlock suddenly had a moment of clarity before his emotions crashed into him and he gave himself leave to drown in them, secure in the knowledge that John would keep him safe. He wanted John like nothing he'd ever wanted before. It was John who helped keep the demons at bay, who looked after him when no one else even noticed anything was wrong, who had cared about him right from their first meeting.

"Stay with me, never leave." Sherlock whispered pleadingly.

John's eyes darkened, but the gentle way he moved Sherlock so he was now lying along his bed, vulnerably on his back but with John hovering protectively above him… Sherlock had never felt safer.

Each kiss felt like a silent promise, every gentle run of callused fingers along his body soothed the hurts of ignorance. Sherlock didn't care – for once in his life – if this was logical or rational. This here, John slowly removing both of their clothing, was all that mattered, all Sherlock would ever need.

Sherlock breathed heavily – this time from lust rather than pain – he watched John's eyes flutter as he stretched himself quickly, but effectively. Sherlock lost his breath as he was engulfed in a tight warmth, the likes of which he'd never felt before.

"Breath." John whispered raggedly in his ear and Sherlock complied as he was treated to gentle butterfly kisses as John adjusted. As the man began to move in a slow up and down motion, Sherlock gasped, hands reaching out and clasping John's hands, intertwining their fingers.

"I'll protect you, surround you with warmth and love." John whispered as he moved, voice deep and full of affection.

Warmth began to build up inside of him and Sherlock found himself unrealistically wishing that they could stay this way forever.

"I'll always be here for you." A soft kiss to his ear lobe.

"I'll always protect you." A kiss to his jaw.

"I'll always love you." A kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I'll never let you be alone again." John kissed Sherlock roughly, his movements now desperate and full of desire.

"I'll stay – always!"

Sherlock suddenly felt the warmth inside him burst with a shower of stars and he could now understand why John loved looking at the huge balls of gas in the sky so much. A cry tore from his throat and he'd never felt so warm, protected and loved in his life.

It was everything he'd wanted but didn't think he could have.

…

Sherlock tried to move even closer to John's warm, sweaty body, almost trying to crawl into his skin. Though from the tight squeeze of the arm around him, Sherlock doubted the doctor minded. Resting his head on the solid chest before him, the sound of John's heart as it slowly returned to its normal speed soothed Sherlock.

"I love you." The words slipped out of his mouth without any conscious thought – something that would usually have irked him, but laying here it felt as natural as breathing.

"I love you too," John's voice rumbled from his chest to Sherlock ear.

"Stay?" Sherlock asked sleepily, his body lethargic and so cosy and warm. His eyes were quickly loosing the battle to stay open.

"Always."

Sherlock found himself drifting off into blissful sleep to the sound of John's heartbeat and the feel of John's calloused fingers gently combing through his slightly sweaty hair.

He'd never before felt more accepted, more loved, more like he'd finally found his home.

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